The Night of the Dragon's Fire
by MLaw
Summary: Jim and Artie journey to San Francisco to investigate the frightening robberies of government payroll shipments. What they find is not what they expect.
1. Chapter 1

**"The Night of the Dragon's Fire"**

The horses pulling the stagecoach shrieked and reared in terror as flames suddenly erupted across the trail in front of them, tossing the passengers like rag dolls. The driver held the reins tightly trying to control the panic of the beasts, but the bolted.

The man riding shot-gun, former army officer William Prescott was guarding the payroll shipment lashed tightly to the top of the coach. He got off a couple of shots from his repeater rifle, aiming at what looked like of a pair of glowing red eyes. Fire shot out again as the horses wild reaction knocked him off balance, sending him flying off his perch and down to the ground.

He heard thought he heard the flapping of wings in the air as the stagecoach and it's passengers took off into the darkness.

Bill picked himself up, dusting off his clothes and that was when he saw it, a ball of flame erupting in the distance. He ran to it at full speed, until he reached the site, finding what was left of the passengers and driver. Their bodies lay burned and smoking on the ground along with the horses. The stagecoach was unharmed, but the payroll chest was gone.

He heard that flapping sound, looking up he saw a large shadow of a some sort of monster as it passed in front of the moon that hung like a white lantern in the night sky.

.

It was late as James West walked carefully along one of the many mist-covered docks that lined the waters of San Francisco bay, wearing his black hat, dressed in his signature blue bolero jacket and pants. In the distance he could hear the lonesome ringing of a buoy as it rocked in the water.

"bong bong bong" was the only thing heard beside the sound of his boot heels on the wood beneath them.

Then he saw it, the painted image of a red Chinese dragon on a sign above his head, the message directing those aware of it's meaning to the location of a small opium den. He continued down the darkened alley to the entrance, passing through a pair of batwing doors that continued to swing to and fro after he entered.

The room was lined with several large carved teak opium couches, most of them occupied. Beside the men laying in them were ornate wooden trays containing their pipes for smoking, an opium lamp, spare pipe bowls and other implements for partaking in the mind-numbing drug. The couches were thinly veiled by beaded curtains, not that the occupants were aware of their surroundings or who if anyone watched them as the drug had them caught in a haze somewhere between the world of the living and the dead.

The room itself had an eerie glow to it from the multitude of round red paper lanterns that lined the smoke-filled ceiling above.

Spotting his quarry, West headed to the couch on his left, pushing aside several men chattering away in Cantonese obviously trying to chase him off.

"Hòituì_back off!" he ordered them, with one of the few words he knew in the language as he drew his pearl handled colt from it's well oiled holster, aiming it at them without hesitation.

He knocked the opium pipe from the man's hand as he lay on the couch, wrapping his free arm around his waist, pulling him up to his feet.

"Come on Bill, I'm here to get you out." he mumbled into the man's ear.

"Huh...Jim? Jim West what you doin' here?"

"Getting you out of trouble. Now let's go?"

"No don't bother, it's over for me...they all think I'm crazy, that I had something to do with that..." Bill's voice trailed off as the drug pulled him back into it's embrace.

"No you don't." West said, "I believe you and you're coming with me.

The Secret Service agent hauled the man along beside him, as the smaller men in their traditional Chinese robes continued to chatter away like magpies.

West finally got Bill Prescott out into the night air, hoping that would reinvigorate the man as he made his way to a carriage that awaited them on the main street.

A driver sat in the seat of the small buggy, keeping the horses steady. The animals were spooked about something but he wasn't quite sure as it was a seemingly quiet night.

"Artie!" Jim called to his partner as he approached out of the fog.

Artemus Gordon tied the reigns off quickly, hopping down to help lift William Prescott into the passenger seat, as West climbed in after him, pulling the folding top up and locking it into place.

"Let's get him back fast to the hotel," Jim called as Gordon climbed back into the driver's seat, again grabbing hold of the reigns.

"Yah!" Artie called out, snapping the reigns, calling to the pair of horses pulling the four-wheeled conveyance to move out quickly.

Gordon guided the carriage away from the waterfront, through the streets of San Francisco until the reached their destination, the Palace Hotel. Opulent accommodations but ones that suited the guise for James T. West, under cover as a wealthy railroad bank President, traveling across country with his partner Artemus Gordon.

Next door to the hotel was a typical saloon offering by way of entertainment dancing girls, some of whom occasionally suggested being available for somewhat personal services, if known would have been found a distasteful abhorrence to the hotel's up-scale guests.

Scattered thoughout the bar were tables offering other entertainment... Faro, brag, poker, three-card Monte and other games of chance, in another side room were billiard, snooker tables and dartboards, all catering to a changing clientele as the affluence of the city began to grow.

A piano player tickled the ivories as can-can girls suddenly rushed to the stage, performing the dance that was sometimes banned, but not here, not tonight. Whooping and hollering as they flashed their scantly lace pantaloons to the enthusiastic bar patrons.

Jim and Artie entered through the front of the saloon, dragging Bill Prescott between them. In this setting, no one paid attention to the men making it easier as they passed through a side exit leading to the hotel lobby next door, allowing them easy access to the caged elevator.

The slipped into the contraption, taking it up to their private suite on the fourth floor.

Upon entering the room, they laid Bill down on one of the elegant beds, removing his boots, and jacket, loosening his collar.

Artie poured water into a basin, placing a wet towel on the man's forehead as he slowly returned to the conscious world.

Bill Prescott opened is eyes, squinting as he saw, his friend and former army buddy James West sitting on the bed beside him.

"Welcome back." Jim smiled.

"Not sure if I wanted to come back. Why didn't you just leave me there when I asked?"

"Not an option that was given to me. I'm here to help you and I'm not taking no for an answer." West answered. " I know you think you're a laughing stock, and that people think you've lost your mind...but the White House finds it no laughing matter when government payrolls are being stolen and people mysteriously burned to death in the process. Bill you're the only living witness to one of these incidents..."

"Jim, it's something I don't want to believe I saw. I have to be crazy, out of my mind. Maybe the fear was what set my imagination off."

"Bill, you went through hell and back with me during the war, and we saw some pretty bad things. Just tell me what happened, trust me, I will believe you."

Prescott looked at his friend, then at Artemus Gordon. "It was like hellfire had just erupted out of nowhere, flames shot out of the darkness in front of the team pulling the stagecoach. I saw what looked like a pair of glowing red eyes in the darkness and I fired at it with my Winchester and then the horses bucked and bolted and I was thrown off to the ground."

Prescott stopped himself, lowering his head obviously shaken as Gordon placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Then there was another explosion of fire in the distance and I ran towards it, that's when I found everyone dead...men, women and children burned to a crisp. It was horrible." His voice trailed again, and this time Jim handed him a shot of bourbon, which the man downed instantly.

"The stage wasn't touched at all, and the payroll trunk was gone, and that's when I looked up and saw it up in the sky, flying like a huge snake with flapping wings in front of the moon. It belched out fire then disappeared into the night sky."

"What did it look like to you Bill?"

"A monster, a giant snake of a monster." He poured himself another shot from the bottle," Reminded me of those dragon dancers things you see snaking through the streets in one of those dang festivals you see in Chinatown. Now do you understan why people are calling me crazy Jim...me seeing a dragon?"

James West and Artemus Gordon simply flashed each other a wary look.


	2. Chapter 2

West and Gordon relaxed in the sitting room, each having their own glass of bourbon. Although Jim preferred tequila, he'd settle. Prescott was asleep now, resting comfortably.

"Jim do you really believe him, that there was a real dragon that did this?"

"Part of me does, and part of me doesn't, let's face it you and I have seen some strange things traveling across the country. Could a dragon really exist, after all these Chinese have brought some strange things with them to this country?"

"Maybe. They did after all invent gun power, so who knows what else they could have bought with them." Gordon added.

"I thought that was he Greeks?"

"No gun powder was discovered around 850 A.D. during the Tang Dynasty, but it wasn't until the Song Dynasty around 904 A.D. when it was first used as a military application against the Mongols."

"Really? " Jim raised his eyebrows as he swallowed another shot of bourbon. "So you think the Chinese brought a dragon egg over here, hatched it, trained the animal and are using it as a means to rob payroll shipments now?"

"I think that's a far fetched stretch of the imagination, but who knows?"Artie said.

"Well we need to find out who's behind it before anymore innocent people are hurt. No one's going to want to travel anywhere by stagecoach, whether there's a payroll on board or not?"

"Agreed, maybe we need to look at this from another angle. Who would benefit by this, not just the money from the shipments that is...but people have to travel where the railroad doesn't go."

"Another company in competition with the Overland Express? That's a pretty extreme method to get rid of the competition...killing off passengers?

"Well this is the third time it's happened, so...obviously someone has some sort of plan going on?"

"Hell of a plan, killing off innocent people." Jim said.

Artie looked up, noticing that there was a red glow shining through the front windows facing out to the street. Being on an upper floor it offered a good view several blocks away from the hotel as Gordon pulled the heavy green and gold fringed curtain aside to see what it was all about.

"Jim," he said with concern in his voice, " better have a look at this?"

His partner joined him at the widow, looking at the light from a substantial fire burning several streets over from the hotel, and then came the muffled sounds of a clanging bell sounding as a horse drawn fire wagon raced down the street taking the turn at a breakneck speed.

"A fire, that's not anything unusual in this city?" West said.

"True, but I'm estimating the location of that fire... is right about where the stagecoach station is located as I recall?"

"Now Artie, _that_ is interesting. What say we head over there?"

"My thoughts exactly James."

The two secret service agents put on their coat and hats, after cinching their gun belts around their waists. They left Bill Prescott asleep in bed, assured that the effects of the opium still coursed through the man's system. West adjusted his gun belt again on his hips as they took the elevator down to the first floor, then exited through the front of the hotel, mounting their horses waiting for them at the hitching post, heading off at a gallop towards the fire.

When they arrived two streets over, it was as if Prescott had described the scene for them in advance. There were several severely burned bodies lying on the ground around the night stagecoach that was remained intact and undamaged. It had been getting ready to depart for Fort Mason to deliver the payroll as it's first scheduled stop.

The difference in the scenario this time was that there were two seemingly terrified witnesses describing a horrible rumbling noise, a large dark figure of a beast breathing out the fire that burned the people as they exited the stage after a strange ghost-like, disembodied voice had ordered them to do so.

"Where did it go?" West asked a man dressed in black, who stood to one side shaking terribly.

"Why I don't know? It was right there, this dark creature, " he said pointing to a spot on the street, "then it was gone, like magic."

At first his instinct was to check to see if the fellow had been drinking but then when he realized the man he had just questioned was a preacher, West thought otherwise.

Gordon was kneeling over one of the burned corpses, examining it as best he could under the circumstances. The local constabulary had arrived and was trying to disburse the crowds that were gathering around the gruesome sight. West walked up to his partner as he rose, now turning to the spot where the witness said the creature had stood.

"What are you thinking Artie?"

"Smell that?"

"If you mean burned flesh, then yes." Jim said.

"No there's something else an underlying odor more like... like kerosene." Gordon wafted the air in front of his face with his hands, trying to take in more of the scent. "Yes it's definitely s strong smell of kerosene."

Other than the street lamps which were far enough away, there was nothing in the immediate area that could have given off such an odor.

The two men looked at the spot on the road where the beast supposedly stood, but the only thing they could see were a set of wagon wheel tracks that dug deeply into the dirt, as it it had been carrying a heavy load.

A lovely blond haired southern belle stepped forward, dressed in a lacy layered ensemble in a lighter shade of blue; she was cooling herself furiously with a hand fan.

"My goodness that was horrific, that terrible creature! " Then when she spotted the nearby bodies lying in the street she swooned, right into the arms of James West.

Artemus Gordon simply rolled his eyes as Jim caught her, lifting her into his arms. "They just follow you like moths to a flame don't they?"

"Hey, I'm just being gentlemanly, can't let a lady fall in the dirty street can I?" he grinned.

.

She awoke finding herself laying in bed in a strange room, with three handsome men looking down at her.

"Oh my" she gasped, "where am I and what happened to me?"

Jim sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, taking her hand in his.

"You witnessed the terrible attack of on the stage and fainted Miss...

"Oh the name is Julie Sarah Thayer of Virginia." Her drawl was quite evident.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Thayer. My name is Jim West, this is Artemus Gordon and our friend here is William Prescott."

"Excuse me Miss Thayer, your name sounds very familiar to me?" Artie said.

"Oh yes, that's because my I'm named for my Aunt Sarah, Sarah Amelia Thayer, she's the wife of the Secretary of the Treasury, the former Governor of Massachusetts George Boutwell."

"Really?" Artie looked at his partner with interest."

"And what may I ask is a daughter of Virginia doing all the way out here by herself in San Francisco, especially near that ill-fated stage coach?"

"Oh that was terrible wasn't it. My, that's the third time I've seen it happen! I'm beginning to think I'm some sort of jinx!" she suddenly became very flushed and Jim handed her a glass of water.

"You mean to say you were on each of the the stage coaches that were attacked?"

"Why yes, I was on them," she smiled strangely.

"And how is it you managed to survive and no one else did?" Artie asked, " That makes you the only living witness to all three incidents, and you never came forward?"

"Ahem?" Prescott cleared his throat," don't forget me gentlemen. And I have to say that I don't exactly remember you being on the stage that I was on Miss?" he said accusingly.

"Oh you don't, well that's a shame." Sarah reached into the bodice of her dress, producing a small red ball, raising her arm then smashing the projectile against the floor, producing a cloud of red foul-smelling smoke that filled the room.

They all dove for the floor, and when the noxious smoke cleared, the woman was gone, and William Prescott lay dead on the floor.

There was a small dart protruding from his neck and using his handkerchief, Gordon removed it. Then gave it a sniff. "Aromatic, tarry odor," he concluded," curare."

"Damn!" Jim cursed, dusting off his clothing, feeling like he was in some sort of drug induced haze from what ever was in the red smoke.

"Smell that Jim?." said Artemus Gordon.

"This time I do."

"_Kerosene_," they both said simultaneously.


	3. Chapter 3

The last incident brought stagecoach travel to a resounding halt, just as Gordon had predicted. The mysterious young woman's appearance and disappearance added no clue as to the situation, other than the fact that she was involved.

With Prescott's murder, it was assumed the young woman had been sent by whomever was behind all this to remove the only true living witness they had. But then Jim thought of the preacher man he had spoken to. They searched the area, but no one had seen or heard of anyone fitting the man's description. That West found just a little suspicious. The girl that mysteriously came and went, now seemed in his mind to be linked with this preacher as well.

West and Gordon headed out of the bay area, back to their train old number 8 dubbed _The Wanderer_ that was sitting on a side track waiting for them like a looming sentinel, periodically belching out smoke and stream as the engineer stoked the coals. These two agents had a habit of wanting to depart at a moment's notice, so the coals were kept hot and ready at all times.

Tennyson walked into the main sitting car with their smoking jackets carrying the humidor containing West's supply of Cuban cigars. He took their coats and hats, hanging them up dutifully, then decanted brandies for both of them without a word.

"Will you be eating dinner sirs?" He finally asked quietly.

Both agents were too focused at the moment to answer him, dwelling on the problem at hand. The butler disappeared forward into the small kitchen area, knowing that the scent of steaks frying in the pan would pull them from their pensive moods if for but a short while.

Tennyson suddenly appeared with a small tray in his gloved hand, "Mr. West this telegraph message just arrived for you."

Jim took it from the tray tearing the end of the envelope open and removing the paper, reading it quickly.

"Damn! he cursed, there's been another attack, but this time there was no payroll on board." he said, handing the telegram to his partner.

The decision to switch the payrolls to railway and armored war wagons was in the planning stages in the Governor's office, but now that a fourth stagecoach carrying nothing but innocent passengers was again attacked; the theory of this being strictly a robbery and murder would now change. This left the secret service agents more perplexed than they were before and at a complete loss for answers.

Artemus walked over to the pool table, rotating the the top, flipping it over to reveal a topographical map of the San Francisco area. He marked the locations of all four attacks with pawns from their chess board, the positions of the pieces forming a perfect square.

Jim reached out setting the king in the center of the square, indicating as he crossed with his fingers, saying " X marks the spot."

Then Artie lifted the piece to see where _that_ spot was. The town of Eustace. He scratched his head as he was aware that it was nothing but a two horse town, and lucky if there were half a dozen people still living there. It was one of those settlements that came into existence during the gold rush then began to fade little by little, eventually becoming nothing but a ghost town. But still this bit of information was meaningless.

He and Jim could find no one person or group that could benefit from the halting of the stagecoach service, at least in the San Francisco area where the attacks were limited. The railroad didn't run that far into the territory, so idea of collusion on their part was eliminated. No new transport or livery services had sprung up recently...nothing to give them a clue.

Tennyson brought out two huge sirloin steaks cooked to perfection, garnished with shallots and mushrooms, accompanied by potatoes gratiné, with a side of locally grown avocado and tomato slices. A veritable feast that the two men dug into realizing they were in fact quite hungry.

After their meal they lit up another pair of cigars, finishing off again with snifters of brandy.

Then it came, the first break through. Artemus Gordon had picked up a copy of the San Francisco Chronicle newspaper, he thumbed through it stopping at an advertisement for a company that was offering it's services to escort and protect anyone needing to travel by stagecoach across the territory, to which ever city or town they chose.

"That's not surprising," Jim said,"there's bound to be some enterprising people wanting to take advantage of the situation."

"Yes, that's true. But the location of this company advertising their services just happens to be in the barely existent town of _Eustace_"

"It's a brilliant plan," Artie said, " terrorize people, frighten them half to death, then offer them protection...for a price of course."

"So the payroll thefts were a convenient side benefit. The deaths of the passengers were the main goals after all.' West said as he looked at the advertisement, reading it aloud.

"Dragonetti Security Services. Personal protection in these trying times. Reasonable rates. Hmmm, rather a coincidental name don't you think? Artie, I think it's time we paid them a little visit." Jim smiled at his partner.

The next morning West and Gordon saddled up their horses, heading out to find the town of Eustace. Upon their arrival, they found as Gordon had surmised, a ramshackle group of decrepit wooden structures that one could barely describe as a town.

There was of course the gratuitous saloon, as in any failing town that was the last business to go. There was a small hotel beside it. A livery, and one structure that looked to have been newly renovated, white washed and a sign saying open for business. Dragonetti Protection Service. Their logo the image of a fire breathing dragon.

"This is just too easy," Artie said.

They decided to approach with caution, Jim heading into the bar alone to see what information he could glean about the Dragonetti operation before he actually went into the place.

He pushed through the swinging doors that were barely hanging on by their hinges. There were at least a dozen occupants, some of them saloon girls, and some cowboys sporting their six shooters freely on their hips, and several sawed off shot-guns and Remington rifles leaning close by.

This was not a crowd that West could afford to have tousle with as the was just plain outnumbered. He knew he could take most of them out in a good old fashioned fist fight, but there were just too many gun barrels to contend with here.

"What ken I do ye fer stranger?" the barkeep asked.

"Tequila"

"Tequila? We don't serve any of that Mexican rot gut here, it's either whiskey or warm beer mister."

Some one let out a snicker behind him, but West ignored it.

"Make it whiskey then, " he answered, dropping two bits down on the bar. The drink was poured, and he nodded to the man for another few rounds, then mumbled asking about the Dragonetti business in town.

"Oh that place, durned peculiar if ye ask me? This here town's near dead and this little scrawny feller comes in buying up the old First National Savings Bank building and startin' that there protection business. If ye ask me it's just guns fer hire, but it's purty scary with all them stagecoach folks being burnt up by some sort of monster. Gunslinger or not I wouldn't want to be going up against some sort of critter that breathes fire and cooks people up like some Texas bar-b-que!

Jim eyed an old bearded prospector, covered with dust at the end of the bar who had just gulped down his beer.

"So tell me has this scrawny fellow hired anyone yet?"

"You lookin' to git hired mister... you look mighty like a fancy kinda dude to be wantin' that sort of job?"

"Maybe I'm just asking." West said.

"Well mister, you see these men in this here bar, them's all been hired. So maybe y'all should talk to one of them fellers?"

James West decided against that, just in case things turned ugly, and in a place this, things usually did so at the drop of a hat. He tipped his own hat to the barkeep then headed out to the street, followed a few minutes later by the old prospector.

"So Jim," Artie whispered from beneath his disguise," ready to go visit Dragonetti's?"

Artie positioned himself on a bench outside of the establishment, holding a half empty bottle of whiskey as he pretended to be just a bit tipsy.

A tiny brass bell jangled as West opened the door. He stepped inside an empty room with only a counter with a few barred windows, just like you'd see in a bank.

Behind one of them stood a small thin bespectacled man, standing barely over five feet tall.

"May I help you sir?" he said in a barely audible voice that seemed to choke as soon as he saw West's face."

"Yes sir my name is Thadeus Brown and I'd like to inquire about a job?"

"Why yes Mr. Brown, my name is Ignis Cadwallader and I'm the owner of this establishment."

"Cadwalleder? " Jim repeated then looking at the man, finding something vaguely familiar about this man, as he recalled the name of an old enemy, Professor Orkney Cadwallader. "so there isn't a Mr. Dragonetti?"

"Oh that's the name of one of my backers, sort of an _homage_ to his ancestry..." he answered nervously.

"So about that job Mr. Cawallader?" Jim asked.

"I'm sorry Mr. Brown but at present my employee rolls are to capacity, and until I start receiving requests for our services, then I'm afraid I won't be hiring any other help at present. Thank you for your inquiry. Have a nice day."

Cadwallader suddenly lowered the shade behind the bars at the window, thereby ending the conversation.


	4. Chapter 4

re"That went really well?" Artie said as they settled back in on the train. They hadn't spoken at all on the ride back until Jim finally said a name to him.

"Cadwallader, remember him, Orkney Cadwallader?"*

"Sure, he was that lunatic Professor using nitroglycerine to trigger earthquakes in Wyoming, as I recall that was an extortion situation too."

"Well this Cadwallader's name is Ignis, that ring a bell to you at all? I don't recall an Ignis in their family tree? I thought the only one left was Faith..."Jim lowered his head, " and she and I didn't exactly part on the best of terms. "

Do you think this fellow Ignis could be her son?"Artie asked.

"Not a chance, he was too old."

"Just a point of interest... Ignis means fire in Latin, also the root for the word ignite." Artie said. "and that can't simply be a coincidence."

Jim dropped down to the sofa wth a sigh. " It has to be them, this Dragonetti Company. And with a Cadwallader involved there can't be any doubt. You know that leaves us with only one clear choice with which to catch them?

"Jim, I was afraid you were going to bring that up." Artie grimaced.

.

The stagecoach readied for departure from the outskirts of San Fancisco, heading northeast to the state Capital, Sacramento. The passenger list was full, with only a driver and no one riding shotgun...no one within view that was.

The driver released the brake, urging the team on with a loud "Yah" and they took off with a mighty heave, pulling the coach and it's passengers off to an uncertain future.

The Wanderer had traveled on ahead along the old California Pacific Rail line, that having been absorbed as part of the Central Pacific Railroad Company, waiting as ususal on a side rail for West and Gordon to return.

They had ridden nearly an hour when the bearded driver pulled the team to a stop, at hearing a strange haunting voice that echoed in the air.

"Stop where you are! Please exit the coach now before it is too late."

The driver jumped down, running off and abandoning his charges but not before he released the hitch that joined the team to the coach.

No one left the stagecoach as instructed as a hulking dark thing approached...there was a frightening roar that preceded it.

The driver and his companion who had been following from a distance watched as a black wagon wheeled into view, but there were no horses pulling it. It looked like a modified war-wagon with steam pouring from a small smoke stack. On the front of the wagon was the black head of a of a dragon, it's eyes glowing menacingly red.

It's mouth suddenly opened and out shot a stream of flame, the horses reared in terror, bolting away, leaving the rig behind as they galloped off.

Still no one stepped out of the stagecoach as the metal beast belched out more flames, reeking of the smell of kerosene.

The echoing voice spoke once more. "Out of the stagecoach now!" this time there was a definite strain to it as it's orders were not being obeyed.

"Out now I say, out with you all!" The voice again ordered.

When nothing happened, a hatch suddenly opened at the rear of the mechanical beast and Ignis Cadewallader climbed out, walking towards the motionless coach.

He looked inside expecting to find people cowering in fear, but instead he saw nothing but straw-filled dummies dressed in men's and women's clothing.

"Hold it right there Cadwallader" Jim called as he stepped from the the brush, his gun aimed at the little man.

"Mr. Brown? I told you I wasn't hiring anyone!"

"The name's West, James T. West of the United States Secret Service and you are under arrest Mr. Cadewallader for murder, attempted blackmail and theft of Government payroll."

The stagecoach driver stepped out next to West, holding his rifle at first towards Cadewallader then turned, aiming towards the Federal Agent.

"Artie what are you doing?" Jim said.

"I'm afraid that's not your friend Mr. Gordon. I have him safely tucked away. You see I recognized you when you paid Dragonetti's a visit." Cadewallader said.

"And how could you recognize me, I've never met you."

"You see Mr. West, you had dealings with my Uncle Orkney and I loved my Uncle very much. So I've kept track of you all this time hoping for a little revenge, I just didn't imagine that it would coincide with my little money-making scheme."

Cadwallader lifted what looked like a dart gun to his mouth, giving it a puff of air, sending a dart into West's neck.

The projectile hit West in the throat; his eyes fluttering closed as he crumpled forward, caught in the arms of the bogus stagecoach driver.

.

Jim West raised his head, groggy from what ever drug that had been injected into his system.

He was tied up with ropes knotted tightly around his wrists and wrapped around his chest holding him to a heavy wooden post. He'd been stripped down to just his pants; he rest of his clothes, his boots and all his tools were gone.

"About time you woke up." West heard the familiar voice of his his partner coming from behind him. Gordon was in an equal state of restraint, though had more clothing left to him than his partner.

"It was Cadewallader alright." Jim sighed, " and he saw our trap."

"No kidding?"

"Excuse me gentleman but you are only half correct on that." Another familiar voice spoke to them as he entered the room

"Mo Ti?" West and Gordon blurted out simultaneously.

The man stood quite alive, dressed in a red and yellow silk embroidered jacket, looking very much like a Mandarin Lord, complete with a guan hat bedecked with a long peacock feather.

"Wait, you're dead." Artie said.

"Hardly Mr. Gordon. I am quite disappointed that you did not add up the clues left to tell you who was really behind this. I guess I was being too _inscrutable_. Sometimes we Chinese can be a bit overly clever for you round-eyes." He laughed.

"So no more designs on the Emperor's Throne Mo Ti?" Artie said.

"No, it is all about money now. I discovered that with money comes power, and I need no title or throne for that."

"I should have realized the connection when I found Prescott in that opium den...the sign had a red dragon on it, or should I say a crimson dragon, the _Order of the Crimson Dragon?_" ** West said with just a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

"Yes even when Ignis mentioned the name _Dragonetti_ being an _homage_ to his backer, you still did not make the connection." Mo Ti smiled.

Miss Julie Thayer walked in behind Mo Ti, escorted on the arm of Ignis Cadwallader.

"Why Mr. West aren't you the handsome specimen?" She took in his muscled torso with her eyes, enjoying the view taking him in like a slow sip of sweet sherry.

Cadwallader become quite indignant, pulling at her arm. "Julie Thayer that is not very lady-like!"

"Ignis, I will look at and say what ever I please and I will hear no such further talk from you!"

"Yes dear," Ignis answered, duly reprimanded.

"I don't understand, how do you fit into this Miss Thayer?" Jim asked her as she sidled up to him.

"Oh you see, we're going to take our little show on a National tour." She ran her fingernail down the middle of his chest.

"Excuse me, _show_? Artie called, not being able to see everyone, but could still hear what was being said.

"We are in the process of building more of Ignis' infernal dragon machines, and when we have enough of them we will control all modes of transportation across this nation and that's where Miss Thayer's Uncle comes into play. "Mo Ti answered.

"Yes dear Uncle will be convinced that it is in the best interests of the National economy and security of the country to pay as...tithe so to speak to have these horrible creatures kept at bay."

"And the only ones who will seem to manage that will be The Dragonetti Security Services" Jim said." Blackmail by any other name."

"Very good Mr. West, you are catching on now," said Mo Ti," It's a shame you and Mr. Gordon will not be here to witness it all..."

.

ref * "The Night of the Human Trigger" ref ** "The Night the Dragon Screamed."


	5. Chapter 5

Mo Ti and the others watched as Ignis Cadewallader started up the mechanical dragon's steam powered engine, then fill a reservoir within the metal beast with a fresh supply of kerosene.

"Come my dear," Mo Ti spoke to Miss Julie, " No need for a woman of your delicate sensibilities to witness this. It was bad enough that you witnessed the carnage in San Francisco." He offered her his arm, escorting her away.

"Delicate sensibilites?" Jim mumbled, "Am I mistaken, or didn't you did murder Bill Prescott?"

"Tisk tisk Mr. West. That's a very ungentlemanly thing to say in public?"

"I would think it ungentlemanly only if I were speaking to a lady."

That earned him a slap in the face from her, but then she immediately drove her lips into him, kissing him passionately. Jim had not choice but to return it, enjoying it for all it was worth.

"Don't you ever give it a break?" Artie mumbled.

He didn't answer as he was still in a lip lock with Julie Thayer.

Ignis stood there, fuming as he watched, but then smiled with satisfaction in the knowledge that James West would be dead withing the next twenty minutes.

Julie stepped back from him, her eyes twinkling as she looked into Jim's eyes. "What a waste" she sighed, " Good bye Mr. West."

Jim suddenly felt something being pressed into his hands by his partner.

"What is it?" he whispered.

"It's a button from my cuff, the edges should be sharp enough..."

"That's the best you've got?"

"It's not like the left me with much to work with, just get to work will you?"

West began sawing away on Artie's wrist bindings, while his partner with another button in his own hands was performing the same sort of surgery on Jim's ropes.

The roar of Ignis' machine was becoming louder as the steam began to build.

"Artie, hurry up." Jim whispered out of the side of his mouth, letting him know there know there was a sense of urgency as the dragon machine was coming to life.

The two agents suddenly froze as Cadewallader appeared from behind his invention.

"Good bye Mr. West...Mr. Gordon. I can't say that it's been a pleasure, but I can say that this revenge will be sweet." Ignis smiled at them, giving them a little salute, then climbed through the hatch at the back of his machine, not seeing the two agents renewed their furious struggle to cut their bindings.

The eyes of the dragon began to glow a deep red, indicating that it's attack was now imminent. The mouth began to opeing slowly and visible deep within it's metal throat was a small flame, sort of a pilot light.

The flame began to grow large as Ignis prepared to release the full fury of fire against West and Gordon, incinerating them in an instant.

Just as the dragon's mouth opened to it's fullest, Jim pulled free of his restraints, grabbing the rope that had been coiled around his chest, he quickly knotted it into a lasso. Swinging it in the air above his head; he sent the loop flying, hitting it's target...the snout of the black metal dragon.

Jim pulled on it with all his might; Artie now free joined him in one last mighty heave, forcing the dragon's mouth closed just as the fire erupted.

Sending the flame inwards to Ignis Cadewallader. They heard his screams for just a minute as smoke drifted through the metal seams intermingling with the pungent odor of burned flesh.

The dragon began to shudder and vibrate violently.

"Come on Jim, let's get out of here! I think it's going to blow!"

West and Gordon took off down the tunnel where they had seen Mo Ti and Julie Thayer disappear. And just as they heard the machine explode, they threw themselves to the ground as a fire ball blew over their heads.

The stood up, dusting themselves off. Then took off towards a light at the end of the darkened tunnel.

They were met by Mo Ti who stood with a dart gun in his hand, as he headed towards the tunnel entrance to see what had happened.

Jim grabbed a rock laying at his feet, sending it at Mo Ti, knocking the dart gun from his hands. At that moment several of the Oriental's henchmen arrived, following Mo Ti's cry for them to get West and Gordon.

One dove directly at Jim, while another grabbed Artie, holding him while his cohort slammed the agent in his midsection.

Jim ducked as the man who seemed trained in the Chinese style of fighting sailed over his head in a flying kick, but without missing a beat Jim drove his fist upwards as the man was right above him, smashing his fist into his family jewels. West's attacker crumpled to the ground, writhing in pain. Then he jumped towards Artie, pulling one man off him, punching him in the jaw and sending him flying to the ground.

Artemus Gordon pulled free of his attacker, ducking a punch then hit the man on the back of the skull with a rock from the floor of the cave.

JIm and Artie looked at each other, then around the cave finding themselves alone. Mo Ti and Julie Thayer were gone.

They walked through to another part of the cave in search of them, but instead found Ignis Cadewallader's workshop with three of the infernal dragon machines in mid-construction.

"Well at least we found them before they were finished?" Artie said.

He and his partner located gallons of kerosene located nearby and they poured it over Ingnis' mechanical monsters. Then the two of them headed farther down the corridor.

Artie ripped a piece of cloth from his shirt, tying it around a rock he pulled from the cave wall, poured kerosene on it, then striking a match; he ignited it then threw it immediately into the cave. He and Jim took off like a bat out hell, running from the cave.

Just as they reached the outside, a mushroom of flame exploded out from the cave entrance, sending the two men flying to the ground for the second time.

Artie rolled over looking at his partner as they lay in the dirt.

"That was more than just kerosene?" he said to Jim.

"Well, what ever it was, it took care of a problem for us."

There was no sign of Mo Ti or the girl, and at this point they really were no longer of any threat without Cadewallader's monster to do their dirty work. The cave and it's contents were destroyed along with Mo Ti's men.

West and Gordon located a pair of horses, making their way back to the Wanderer, only half satisfied that they had done their job.

A message was telegraphed to Washington regarding Miss Julie Thayer and the response they received was one that surprised them both. The Secretary of the Treasury and his wife had no such niece by that name or description.

"So who was the mystery woman, and why the deception as to her identity?" Artie asked.

"Don't know." Jim said as he sat on the couch, rubbing oil into the leather of his new gun belt. "Well at least we can have a warrant issued for Mo Ti, if she stays with him, then we'll find her."

Three weeks later, the man known as Mo Ti, formerly of the Crimson Dragons was found murdered in his Red Dragon opium den in San Francisco.

The mystery woman was no where to be found, and James West wondered if she would return to haunt them with some other maniac at her side.

He remembered her kiss for a moment, letting his thoughts drift from the reality that she was a murderess while he laid down on the sofa, smoking one of cigars as the Wanderer headed back to the Capital for another assignment from President Grant.


End file.
